


Early this morning

by EssayOfThoughts



Category: Gotham (TV)
Genre: Blood, Hand Jobs, Hate Sex, Knives, M/M, Mildly Dubious Consent, Temperature Play
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-23
Updated: 2017-07-23
Packaged: 2018-12-06 01:15:09
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 787
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11589984
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/EssayOfThoughts/pseuds/EssayOfThoughts
Summary: “Youfrozeme,” Ed snarls. “Trapped me. Kept me as atrophy.”He’s choking, he’s choking, he can'tbreathe-“And for what? Because you wanted something you couldn’t have?”“Ed-”A hand, as cold as ice, slips into Oswald’s pyjama bottoms.“Because you wantedthis?”





	Early this morning

**Author's Note:**

> Written for [Sam](http://sam-keeper.tumblr.com/) while listening to [Soap&Skin - Me And The Devil](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=xd9LpME3jnk), after the Season 4 trailer reminded me how much I desperately want to see Nygma and Oswald tear each other apart in vicious brutal hatesex.
> 
> I was gonna call this "Nyglepot" for all of three seconds (because Nygma and Cobblepot) and then decided it sounded like a cousin to Cthulhu.

“Oswald.”

Ed is in the doorway.

Ed is in the doorway, ice still in his hair, dripping water onto polished wood floors, shivering with cold and fury and cold-as-hell-fury.

Oswald scoots back in bed, reaching for the knife, the gun, the weapons he keeps stashed, but for a man who was, until recently, frozen, Ed moves shockingly fast.

He has his hands around Oswald’s neck before he can get a breath.

“You _froze_ me,” Ed snarls. “Trapped me. Kept me as a _trophy.”_

He’s choking, he’s choking, he can't _breathe-_

“And for what? Because you wanted something you couldn’t have?”

“Ed-”

A hand, as cold as ice, slips into Oswald’s pyjama bottoms.

“Because you wanted _this?”_

 

* * *

 

Ed is shaking. With cold, with fury, with deep and burning and unabated thirst for vengeance. His hand tightens around Oswald's cock, his eyes fixed on Oswald's face, watching the fear, the pain, the shock and desire of the man who was once his friend.

“E-Ed-”

_“You don't get to speak.”_

So Oswald doesn’t. Oswald surges forwards, digs his teeth into Ed’s neck, and grips tight between Ed’s legs.

 

* * *

 

Ed groans as Oswald bites him, grips him. His own hand tightens on Oswald, but that’s what Oswald _wants_ right now, pleasure and pain, taken and given in equal measure until they’re both too spent to argue.

Then, he can kill Ed. He’d been thinking of redecorating anyway.

 

* * *

 

Oswald’s hips are shuddering, trying to gain friction for his cock. To Ed’s shame, he finds himself trying to do the same. He half snarls, Oswald’s teeth scratching over the shifting expanse of his skin, scratching and scraping until something trickles down over his shoulder.

Ed digs his fingers into Oswald’s hair and yanks.

 

* * *

 

Pain, sweet, sweet pain, and Oswald lets go of Ed’s neck, tilts his head back in Ed’s grasp.

“That’s gonna leave a bruise,” he says.

Ed’s eyes are angry, burning, something fever-mad in their depths.

_“So I’ll mark you back.”_

Ed’s hand tears loose a clump of Oswald’s hair.

 

* * *

 

Oswald’s expression turns furious, his fingers fumbling at Ed’s zip, hand still tight on his groin. Ed’s hand moves, thumb massages, makes Oswald tilt his head back in glassy-eyed pleasure.

“You’re always less than me.”

Oswald’s lips curl into a smile as his hand wraps around Ed’s cock, as his fingers dig into Ed’s buttocks.

“No,” Oswald says. “You’re less than _me.”_

 

* * *

 

It doesn’t matter that Ed is braced above him; let him think he has the advantage here. It doesn’t matter if his fury burns cold or hot; neither of them will think clearly now.

Oswald’s hand jerks on Ed’s cock, simple, utilitarian, but it’s enough to make Ed groan and snarl, to make Ed’s hand jerk on him.

Oswald lets out a groan of pleasure - let him think he’s winning - and digs his nails into Ed’s backside.

 

* * *

 

Ed knows the fog in his mind: fury and vengeance, desire and madness, making him as unhinged as he is at his worst.

Oswald appreciates his worst, though. The murder and death, the torture and pain, the methodical madness as his price is exacted out of the unworthy.

Ed digs his nails into the soft flesh of Oswald’s cock.

_Let him fear it now._

 

* * *

 

Oswald shudders and shakes, hands spasming in equal parts pain and pleasure. Ed groans. Oswald doesn’t think he realises he’s doing it.

His hips jerk, Ed’s hips jerk, both of them no longer entirely focussed on murder, just pain and pleasure, the balance as fine as a knife’s edge.

Oswald digs a knife through Ed’s hand, braced on the mattress, a clump of his hair still caught in between his fingers.

 

* * *

 

A _knife._ He should have planned for this, thought of this, but here, now, the pain makes his mind sharper. Oswald’s eyes are glassy - pain, pleasure, violent fury - and Ed lets his hips move just as Oswald does.

Ed lifts his hand, braces on an elbow, and pulls the knife out with his teeth.

They’re both of them trembling.

 

* * *

 

_You first._

_No, you._

Neither of them willing to surrender, the pleasure turning to pain as they each hold themselves back, refuse to give in, refuse to be weak before the other.

Ed’s hand is bleeding, and his neck. There’s a wet, scabbing matt of hair at the back of Oswald’s head.

Ed’s hand on Oswald’s cock is slick with his own blood, fingers still as icy as the block he’d been frozen in.

They both give in at the same moment, shaking and spilling over each other’s hands, each other’s blood, until they collapse in a tangled pile.

They both say the same thing, when they have enough breath to speak.

“I am going to _kill_ you.”

 

* * *

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> I hope you enjoyed this! Please leave comments!


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